


An Unscandalous Ending

by DesertVixen



Category: Saved by Scandal - Barbara Metzger
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 00:51:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6217066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertVixen/pseuds/DesertVixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Whoever said all’s well that ends well might have been right for once…</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unscandalous Ending

**Author's Note:**

  * For [avani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avani/gifts).



Whoever said all’s well that ends well might have been right for once…

Galen and Margot had spent a lovely summer, touring various Woburn properties – sometimes with Ansel in tow, sometimes not. Contrary to Galen’s gloomy predictions, they had avoided being trapped by too many social obligations.

They had spent a few weeks at Penrose as well, taking the first steps to help bring that estate back to prosperity. Galen was determined to restore Penrose’s heart by the time Ansel reached his majority, so that his inheritance was not an empty one. To that end, he had hired a solid manager, one of the men he had served with on the Peninsula. It worked out well for everyone involved. The new manager had a true love for the land, and a third son’s need for a good position. Galen planned to remain very hands-on, with Ansel and Margot staying in the forefront of things. 

As predicted, the Duke had fallen quite in love with Margot, especially when it became clear that she was increasing. (After some rapid calculation and calendar consultation, Skippy Skidmore had been pleased as well.) His Grace was also more than willing to take Ansel under his wing as a sort of benevolent uncle. Ansel adored Galen, of course, but Margot thought that it was good for her brother to have another male authority figure in his life.

In turn, Margot loved her new family, loved that she was not only surrounded by wonderful art, but by people who truly appreciated art and beauty. She had her music, even more enjoyable now that she no longer needed to sing for her supper. 

Ansel shared her love of music, but he was also drawn to painting. He also displayed a facility for languages that she wanted to nurture. She owed Galen a debt of gratitude for saving her young brother, even if she had not been pleased with his methods at the time. 

Galen had his painting and drawing, although he had not yet painted the portrait of Margot as he envisioned her in her simple diamond necklace. It was an impossible undertaking, at least while their family members were underfoot. Instead, he had done a wonderful portrait of Margot in his father’s greenhouse, surrounded by his orchids. 

His Grace had his flowers, and his greenhouses were certainly works of art in their own right. Margot enjoyed simply wandering through them, admiring blooms such as she had never seen. Her father-in-law was not stingy either, with plenty of cut flowers throughout the house. 

As for Lady Harriet, well there was no denying that she had a true love for acting and drama. Whether her audience appreciated that love was less certain. Even Harriet was not truly horrible, just spoiled.

*** 

All seasons must come to an end, however. 

It seemed to Margot that the summer had barely started, and now they were packing to return to London. Lady Harriet wanted to be married in the city, with the maximum amount of luxury and fuss. His Grace was willing to give his thoroughly spoiled daughter anything, especially since it meant she would be off his hands and out of his hair. 

So the whole family returned to the city, where Harriet could walk down the aisle of St. George’s in front of everyone she knew, followed by a lavish wedding breakfast before the young couple headed off to the Woburn property in Italy for a long honeymoon. His Grace had spared no expense in transporting flowers from his estate, and Galen didn’t even want to think about what her dress and trousseau had cost. At least her wedding gown was tasteful and fashionable – Margot had been able to exercise some influence on the modiste, but only when it came to the gown and her travelling clothes. When it came to the rest of his sister’s wardrobe, Galen was happy to let Skippy deal with matters.

Galen was sure there were wagers in the clubs about another Woodrow being left by their spouse-to-be at the altar, but he had no worries that Skippy would skip this ceremony. He had no idea what had prompted his friend to fall for his spoiled sister, but he was thankful. At first, he had thought that it was simply a ploy to save what shreds of reputation Harriet had left, and that the engagement would quietly fade away over the summer. 

That had not happened, however. Galen had been quite surprised to find them in the garden, talking earnestly about their future, and then had witnessed the two of them sharing a kiss. What had truly convinced him, however, was not the kiss, but the look on both of their faces as they pulled away from each other. 

Skippy and Harriet, as strange as it seemed, made each other happy. Galen was fairly sure he would be called upon at some point to rescue them from themselves, but that was a small price to pay. Perhaps they would decide to make their home permanently in Italy… 

Galen was happy as well, when the ceremony was over, and Harriet was safely wed. 

He was even happier when they bid the newlyweds and his father a fond farewell two days later. Galen would miss his friend (and possibly his sister), but it would be nice to be almost alone in the London townhouse again. Galen had used his Peninsular service connections to find a tutor who would keep Ansel occupied in the morning and early afternoon. Ansel had taken right away to the young man, but the tutor was having to do research in the townhouse’s library in the evening to keep up with his student. 

Galen had also purchased a sturdy locking cabinet, and Jake Humber had installed a sturdy interior lock on his studio door. 

He thought the fall morning light would be perfect to show off Margot and her diamonds. Perhaps tomorrow he could get some preliminary sketches done, assuming he could concentrate…

The sight of Fenning waiting at the door, with a deeply disapproving look on his face, made Galen think that he would not be painting any time soon.

“Doctor and Mrs. Hill are in the drawing room,” his butler informed him.

“Under armed guard, I hope,” Margot whispered to Galen.

*** 

Doctor Hill had originally been brought to the townhouse to care for Ansel after his rescue, and had ended his stay by eloping with Lady Floria Cleary, Galen’s former fiancée. Skippy Skidmore’s intervention had kept the good doctor from marrying Lady Harriet, and he had cut his losses.

Galen almost pitied the man. Almost. He judged that being married to Florrie (without her dowry of twenty thousand pounds) was adequate punishment for the sin of greediness. Rumor had it that Florrie’s father was not at all pleased with his new son-in-law, and Galen was surprised to see them here in town. Florrie did not look as if she were enjoying her married life, and for a moment, he did pity her. Much like his own sister, Florrie had been spoiled and petted and given her own way her whole life – Galen judged that he was probably the first man to not fall in line with her capricious desires.

He was thankful for that – for Margot – every day of his life.

In fact, he was so thankful that when the couple worked around to the subject of their call – the fact that Doctor Hill had decided to try his luck in America, and how much easier that would be with more padding in their financial cushion – Galen decided he could be generous.

When they had left, much happier than when they had arrived, Galen turned to where Margot was leaning on the chaise. “Do you think they will stay in America?”

“For a few years at least,” Margot replied. “Especially since you only gave them half of the dowry upfront, and promised them two thousand pounds a year after that as long as they stay in America.”

He sat beside her, letting his hand slip to the back of her neck – remember, he told himself, buttons first and then her hair. “Harriet is on her way to Italy, your Uncle Manfred should have reached Australia by now, and England will be Florrie-free in less than a week.”

“It is a nice feeling,” she murmured, sliding closer to him. “We should celebrate.”

“We should,” he agreed as he kissed her.

He would start on the painting tomorrow…

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! I love this book, but I was a little nervous about getting Barbara Metzger's tone right.


End file.
